Let's Try Not To Try Too Hard
by M Penchant
Summary: JAM story, post season 2 finale. Angsty and drawn out. Part one of two. Reviews are welcome. I'm boring myself, right now. Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, or have rights to anything.**

**Author's note: The follow-up is almost done, and is entitled "More Difficult Than Previously Thought"; I'm also working on an obscenely weird story about Jim, from the perspective of his roommate, Mark.**

Pam reached behind her head to pull her ponytail tighter. Her hands were shaking slightly, from lack of sleep and nervousness. She had made Roy drive her in to Dunder-Mifflin early, to his protestation and non-understanding. She sat stock still at her desk, solely accompanied by a little 8 a.m. light and a lot of fluorescent overheads. Her palms were sweating too, as she turned on her monitor. Taking a deep breath, she clicked on Outlook. But, Pam's inbox was devoid of what she really wanted to see. _Of course he's not going to send me an e-mail._ She released her held breath and allowed herself to relax a little.

The night previously, Jim had confronted her about his feelings for her—the depth of which surprised her. At first, she had been terrified and confused. She quickly transformed her uncertainty and feeling of helplessness into the somewhat shaky resolution of a woman about to be married, after a three year engagement. Until she saw him again, a few minutes later. Her heart fluttered as she spoke words she couldn't remember afterward. Because he had walked right up to her, bent down and kissed her.

She had gone over it many times—how he had gotten so close to her that her heart leapt, how he had leaned into her and held on. She knew that Jim cared for her, but she had talked herself into ignoring any possibilities that might arise from thinking about him in _that_ way. When his hands were on her, she could almost feel the palatial ridges on the tips of his fingers, marking her forever. Leaving his fingerprints. She was jarred out of her reminiscences by the sound of the elevator springing to life in the shaft. She rose immediately. A feeling of panic swept over her, and her eyes darted to the women's restroom. Upon making it inside, she made sure to close the door quietly behind herself.

She looked in the mirror, and was engulfed by dismay. Pam followed the fine lines that framed her smile, which settled underneath her eyes. _They weren't there when I first started here._ _I look old,_ she thought. She heard footsteps outside, and her self-deprecation came to a stop. She scurried into the first available stall, and held her breath. And then it came back to her how much trouble she had reacting to Jim. After he had made his confession, she had momentarily felt as alienated as a person who had stumbled into the wrong room in a party. And then, when he had later initiated their kiss, she had kissed him back, but after only a moment she was back in the real world.

She realized that cameras were recording them in their most intimate moment, so they left the office to talk for a while. Jim was silent as they walked out of the office, while in the elevator, and as they walked out to his car. He looked around for onlookers as they crossed the parking lost, but otherwise had his eyes on her. Pam hadn't realized it at the time, but she had been looking back at him. She couldn't look away. Their ride in the car was quiet, until Jim broke the silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The door opened. Startled again, she peeked under the partition to see Phyllis's feet on the other side.

"Pam?"

Pam flushed the toilet and after a moment stepped out.

"Hey, Phyllis!"

Phyllis smiled warmly, but had an air of confrontation about her. Pam was certain that she'd filled her confrontation quota.

"Where'd you go last night?" Phyllis asked with a note of concern, "you left all your winnings behind, after you'd asked me to watch your chips!"

A sinking feeling overpowered her. _Everyone knows_. Her mind rapidly glanced over her spotless receptionist career at Dunder-Mifflin, and a feeling of dread pushed her into regretting ever having gone to Casino Night.

"I…" she began, sounding nervous, "I'm sorry. I uh, felt a little funny. I think it might have been the margaritas or something."

There was a slight pleading sound to her voice; Phyllis's eyes went to Pam's wringing hands. _Stop playing with your ring, Pam._ Phyllis dropped the subject immediately.

"Well, I cashed you out, and I've got the money in an envelope for you," Phyllis said over her shoulder, "I hope you're feeling better—you did pretty well!"

Pam couldn't help but feel that she was trying to say something else, like: 'I know what's going on.' She sighed, composing herself, and walked back out to the front desk. Toby was in, as was Oscar and Meredith. Meredith was looking a little worse for wear. Pam watched her coworkers arrive, looking for signs of 'knowing'. Instead, they looked disappointed to be at work, as usual. A couple of them even looked hung over. _No one could be as preoccupied as I am. Ever._ She tried to distract herself with the three hundred dollars that she had netted, and what she might do with it. _I could buy some summer clothes. Maybe a pair of Espadrille sandals. _With a lump in her throat, she had a different thought. _I should put it toward a bartender for the reception._

At that moment, as though mocking her, Jim walked into the office. He looked very tired—as though he hadn't slept either. She tried not to stare, and forced herself to look down. He too seemed to be making an effort.

"Hey Pam."

"Hey," she said, struggling to get that word out of her mouth. Interrupting her fluster, Michael Scott bounded into the room.

"Good morning, Pam! Pam, Pam, Pammy! Pamelot," he said, and trailed off, perhaps looking for something else to say. "Queen Pamivere…"

She watched him blankly, waiting for him to get it out of his system.

"Do you have to be married to be a Queen?" he asked, with his usual flair for saying the wrong thing.

"Good morning, Michael."

"Come on!" he said, slapping her desk. He was looking happier than he'd been in ages. "Wake up! It's a beautiful spring day! You should be living it up! Every second counts!"

"We're indoors, Michael."

He looked a bit stumped, shook his head, and walked away.

"You'd think that after the _greatest_ Casino Night ever… in the history of Casino Nights, that even Pam would be a little happy," he said to himself, and maybe the cameras. Unfortunately, the cameras were taking B-roll of Kevin eating two muffins at once.

Pam remained at her desk, and sat a little lower in her chair in order to avoid Jim's look. _I'm being crazy. Stop being crazy, Pam._ She sat higher then, and let herself look over at Jim. His eyes caught hers, and a small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. She felt herself warm up, and then feel lighter. Her mouth formed a small smile as well, and she lowered her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

There was something else that he was going to say, she could sense it. She was sitting on her hands as he drove slowly—she didn't care where. She could smell him a little. She rarely got the opportunity to be near enough to smell him. He smelled so different than Roy. She hadn't thought that before, until now. She felt her heart speed up a little. _What's happening?_

"I'm taking you to your house, you know. Do you mind if I pull over though?" He took his eyes off of the empty street for a moment, and glanced at her. She shook her head, and he took the first left into a business park.

Her heart was beating so fast that she couldn't stand to look at him. She was afraid of what would happen. She felt that she wanted to cry. As he turned off the engine, parked in the emptiest and vastest parking area, she looked down at her knees, which were poking out from beneath her party dress. They were flooded in the orange-purple light of the sodium lights that lit the lot, that was vacant, except for the two of them.

"Pam," he started, his voice quiet. She looked up. "I'm transferring to Stamford. It'll go into effect in two weeks."

"What?" she asked, her voice breaking a little. She tried to catch his eye, to understand why he would go. His eyes were downcast, but she understood 'the why' anyway. She shook her head and looked away.

"I interviewed with Jan and the Stamford manager a couple of weeks ago. They gave me an offer the other day. I just," he said and reached his hand out to touch hers. He stopped short. "I realized that if you were married, I'd have no reason to stay."

She turned to him and her lip trembled. She grabbed at his hand, and as she felt its encompassing tight grip, tears began to fall.

"I'm sorry that I've hurt you," she said.

"No. Don't be sorry," he said, looking up at her with his shaking head.

"I don't know. Give me some time, Jim. Please. I want to go home."


	4. Chapter 4

She couldn't believe that she'd come in to work, even. When she got home the night before, Roy was sitting in the living room, watching one of his stupid shows, drinking a beer. She told him that she felt extra tired, that it was the poker that did her in. She went to bed and laid on her side, thinking. She heard the buzz of the television and tried to quantify how much she loved Roy. _Why would I want to leave?_ She was motionless until he finally got to bed at one. He tried to wrap his bearish arms around her, but she couldn't stand it. So she got up to go to the bathroom, and stayed there until he fell asleep.

She was distracted for a while by the usual onslaught of calls, beginning at 9 a.m., when she turned on the system. They were the less responsible clients, calling because they had run out of paper and needed to rush some over. When the calls died out at a quarter 'til ten, she looked for Jim, but he wasn't at his desk. She got up and went to the kitchen. He was alone, with his back to her. As she walked up to him, she lost her jitters.

Perhaps feeling her presence, he turned around and looked her over. She felt herself flush.

"Hey Jim," she said, with the contrast of a knitted brow and a great smile.

"Hey," he returned, his voice soft, quizzical.

Pam was comfortable, and though she was aware that everyone could see them in there, she wanted to touch him. She wanted so badly to feel the nape of his neck under her fingertips, to be pressed against him.

"I umm… I want to thank you for talking to me last night. I don't want to…"

Stanley walked in then and stopped, coffee mug in hand, to give them a questioning look.

"I have to get back to the desk."

"Yeah, see ya'," Jim said.

Stanley looked at Jim as Pam departed.

"Mmmhmm," he intoned, with his trademark look of incredulity. Dwight was the next to pass judgment on him. Leaning into the kitchen, he curled his lip and proudly pushed his glasses back onto his nose.

"Jim Halpert," he pronounced, "Michael would like to see you."

Dwight smirked, reveling in his assumption that Jim was finally going to get the axe, or close to it. He stood up straighter.

"Urgently," he said with delusional authority, pointing toward Michael's office, "as in _now_, Halpert."

When Jim arrived at his door, Michael sat slumped at his desk, with the air of someone who lost the biggest fight. Dwight was nearby, milling about behind the large indoor plant. Jim looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"Come in," moaned through the door.

"Michael, you wanted to see me?"

Michael put his hand to his forehead in a gesture of grief, and peeked out at Jim from behind his hand.

"My day was going really well, Jim. It was…" he bit his lip, "perfect."

"Are you okay?"

"Close the door," he said, and waved at the blinds, "and could you close the blinds?"

"Sure."

Michael took his hand away from his face when the coast was clear, and Jim could see that his cheeks were wet. Michael quickly wiped them dry, and heaved a sigh.

"What did I do, Jim?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. Are you okay?"

"Oh, come on! I just got a call from Jan," he said, his voice getting uncomfortably loud, "who seemed happy to tell me, to 'inform' me that you are transferring."

Jim shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. He looked genuinely sorry that he had upset Michael so much.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he started, "but I've been kind of distracted."

"Yeah! Distracted about moving to Stamford," he spat out with a face that seemed as though it was going to lose control of any sense of stability.

"No, really. It's not you. I mean, I just realized that I want to have somewhere to go. I need to develop myself more."

"Why can't you do that here?"

"What would I be promoted to?"

"I could make something up," Michael said, his face relaxing somewhat. "Okay, maybe I couldn't. Jan would kill me."

"Right."

Michael was silent, and spaced out, seemingly examining his "#1 Boss" mug. He nodded his head, and seemed to be wincing.

"Do you think Jan is angry with me?"

"What about?"

"Well, you know… about Carol?"

"I think she was."

"Dammit, dammit, dammit."

"Don't sweat it," Jim said, with his mind clearly on something else. "All is not lost, man. You want me to open the blinds again?"

Michael shook his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Pam took her lunch early, and rather than eat, she sat outside. She came back in with twenty minutes left in her break, walked into the conference room and closed the door behind herself.

"Hey, Mom."

"How are you doing today, hon'?" came her mother's soothing voice over the line.

"Okay, Mom. I'm a little better."

"Good. Have you talked to Jim yet?"

"Yeah, well… yeah."

"What is it?"

She looked around for any spies, and as she did so, she thought of the time that she and Jim had convinced Dwight to spy on the Stamford branch. That was when Roy had walked in and gotten angry at Jim for having his arm around her.

"He kissed me, after I got off the phone with you."

"Oh my God," she breathed into the phone.

"I know."

"Did you… you know?"

"MOM! No!"

"I didn't mean _that_, Pamela. Did you kiss him back?"

"Yes, and I'm not sure what to do, now," Pam spat out rapidly, anxious to say it to someone. To her mom. "I really felt something… Something that I've never felt before. I'm worried."

Her mother was silent for a moment.

"Hon', you need to go to your manager or HR person or whatever right now. Tell them you need some time, _immediately_. You can come to stay with us, or go stay at Phil and Laura's cabin."

Pam looked out the window and spotted that cameras, Dwight sharpening pencils, and the back of Jim's head. The part where his hair kind of flipped out.

"Yeah, okay."

"Momma knows best."


End file.
